


Gatekeeper

by AlyssOfSpades



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Neglect, Dissociation, Gen, Non-Binary Frisk, Platonic Relationships, Reader Is Not Frisk, Sans Has a Bad Time, probably some platonic reader/Papyrus down the line, rude Gaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssOfSpades/pseuds/AlyssOfSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans decides to take action after seeing his brother die one too many times, but his plan is lazy and hasty, causing unforeseen consequences.</p>
<p>You feel the full force of his decision, making your world go haywire. Looking for something you could never find, you fall into the underground. It isn't so bad there, except that you can't stop your life from spiraling downwards and there's an ever-growing void in your chest. But at least the friends you make are nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> I started this as an exercise to get back into writing again, so hopefully this will regularly update every Sunday. I love this game too much not to write something for it. Eventually I'm hoping to do a platonic relationship between the reader and Papyrus. We'll see how it goes.

Prologue

   
Fifty-eight. Thirty-six. Seventy-three. Three numbers composed his entire world. They told him everything he needed to know. They told him that nothing mattered at all. Nothing mattered when everything you did only ended in another reset. He sidestepped another hasty lunge, the blue light from his eye glinting off the blade. The child danced back, but not quickly enough. Their bones snapped under the force of his counterattack, tearing through skin as the small body hit the floor. At first they screamed. They screamed and cursed and thrashed their head back and forth. Small fists pounded the floor. Sans knew they would have kicked their feet if their spine had survived the impact intact. Then they began to laugh. They laughed and laughed, violently so, their body convulsing upwards with each breath. The noise saturated the room, high and pealing. As he stood impassively, waiting for them to die so they could do this again for the seventy-fourth time, Sans noted that the laugh was a lot like the blood pooling under the child: sickening, unwanted, and full of the promise of death.

Blood, Sans thought with a sickened look on his face, is nothing like ketchup. Why did people compare the two? Blood is far too dark of a red, and the smell is wrong, too sickly sweet. The kid had been like that in a different way, sickly sweet. Those were the days when-

He grit his teeth and looked away. No. Those days were gone and not coming back. It had been twelve resets since even the semblance of a good run, one with only a few murders. More than likely the only thing awaiting him and Frisk down the road were bad times. He couldn’t afford to hope a child might come out of the doors in Snowdin next time rather than this thing cackling in front of him. He couldn’t afford to care.

“you have to know when to QUIT, kid,” he muttered. “you can’t keep this up forever.” It was a lie, insubstantial and sour in his mouth. The numbers spoke for themselves. Sans balled his hands up into fists. He didn’t even want to win this. No one listened to him when he tried to warn them. Nothing changed if he saved someone momentarily. They all still died. Hollow lies comprised his entire arsenal of what he had left against the child.

Frisk craned their neck upwards from their position on the floor, giggling as they saw Sans’ lightless, lifeless eyes, how he didn’t believe in anything at all, let alone his words. They kept laughing, splashing their hands around in their own blood. Droplets flew in all directions. They licked off the ones that landed on their lips.

“I’d tell you to give up, but you already have. I’ve seen it so many times in your face.” They paused, frowning, their hair making a quiet squishing sound as they settled their head back down in the blood. “Maybe I won’t kill everyone next time. Maybe just until I get to Undyne. Genocide gets boring after a while, y’know. Gotta keep it interesting, heh.”

For a moment the world went black, as if he blinked for too long. Sans’ heart dropped. Frisk was upright again, sauntering- no, the old Frisk sauntered. This one staggered. Their head lolled on their shoulders. Their arms swung limply. Their fingers, the ones not curled around a knife, twitched. Sans took a fraction of a step back. He couldn’t afford to care, they had just admitted they were going to kill Pap again, but…

The corpse-child snapped to attention at the pause. For the seventy-fourth time that day, steel glinted in that long hallway. Their eyes watched him hungrily, the eyes of a true monster, wide and wild. They put a manic smile behind each attack, a giggle when they dodged. Sans had heard it before, seen it in the seventy-three times earlier today and countless times in past resets. They dominated the battle, pushing everything else into the background. The shuffle of Frisk’s feet as they moved in patterns they memorized a long time ago, the crackle in the air as Sans used too much magic in his attacks, and the tenseness in his bones. None of it compared to the way they treated this as a game.

“You’re getting SLOWER!” They hopscotched between rows of bones, rushing under the excitement of a perceived opening. Frisk lunged at him – the same lunge, always the same. It proved just as easy to dodge. Shadows engulfed the child as a Gasterblaster appeared over their head, blue-tinted light engulfing them before they had a chance to do anything. A scream, a laugh, then they were dust. When the too-long blink of a reset stopped, Frisk stood at the end of the hall, snickering to themselves, their blade held up to their face, hiding their smile. Sans’ legs felt weak.

They used to laugh like that when Pap told a joke. They wore that smile when they were about to start a snowball fight. There was a time when Fighting was a chance to make friends.

It all came rushing back at once. A dam can only hold so much before it breaks. He choked on air, the pain in his chest worse than any knife could possibly be. His eyes flooded momentarily before the fire within them burned it all away. He couldn’t afford to care, but he couldn’t help it. No matter what happened, he loved Frisk, or at least what Frisk had once been.

Sans died on the seventy-ninth time, having cried himself to sleep.

It was long before the thirty-sixth time his brother died, long before the fifty-eighth reset, that he learned he had an endless supply of tears. Perhaps that was his own type of determination. Useless and unable to help. Just like him. Sans laughed breathily, fading out of the world, when something caught his attention. He considered ignoring it, but whatever it was might be helpful. Passing up something like that, something that might help him break out of this endless cycle of destruction, it’d be akin to killing Papyrus himself. The thought, the anticipated weight of bearing that guilt, was enough to give him a few more seconds.

He turned towards the sound, towards what seemed to be void. There was something there, he could feel it in his bones. Sans listened, straining for something useful, because whatever merciless god existed knew that nothing else helped. This had to count.

 

 

Chapter One

 

A long time ago, early afternoon became your favorite time of day. Most of the year, the sun filtered in through your window to embrace the room, soft yellow light illuminating the mess on the floor. Birds sung to their hearts content in the nearby trees, a symphony of melodies you knew well by now. The neighbors, especially Mrs. Jones across the street, liked to trim the hedges separating one yard from another. It kept things looking neat, not to mention it provided flowers room to bloom. In the sunbeams, dust filtered down like snow, melting in the absence of light. The atmosphere settled down around you like a blanket. As the temperature rose outside, you cooled down, usually taking this time to simply lay back on your bed and drink in the peace.  
This was one of those times. A small smile rested on your face as you watched the clouds go by from your bed. Neither of your parents had bothered to come home last night, not that this was new. They always decided last minute to go gallivanting off someplace, ignoring the fact they had a child at home. In the end, it didn’t amount to much. It gave you quiet time and a chance to bond with-

You paused the thought and sat up. Even the dust in the sunbeams seemed to freeze at the intrusive idea. Your family consisted of you and your parents, no one else, not even a pet. You balked at even the concept of sharing these moments with a friend, yet you hadn’t shied from the thought of sharing them with someone. Mom or Dad considered your afternoons alone to be laziness. Who else was there to spend this time with? You scanned the room for some hint as to why, why all of a sudden two plus two equaled the square root of zero and you had accepted it momentarily. It simply didn’t make sense. And did you mention a child? You certainly did not fall into that category any longer. Your parents cared little enough about you, they would balk at the idea of babysitting or something of the like. No children had been in this house in years. You ran your fingers through your hair, scouring your brain for an explanation. Part of you wanted to go back to relaxing and just take in the day, but you kept looking around, brow furrowed. Then you locked on to them, eyes widening. You couldn’t quite tell if your blood was boiling or freezing, but the result was the same.

The pictures on the wall made your lips curl. Not the posters you put up years ago and were too nostalgic about to take down. Not the family photos covered in dust. No. You only despised the five pictures in front of you, the ones you couldn’t understand. The longer you looked at them, the more the hate turned into a cold fear. Your head spun looking at them. You tasted bile in your mouth. You felt as if you had done something wrong, not by looking at the pictures, something else. The dizziness, the drop in your stomach, it only happened with these pictures. Everything else in the room sat idly by. The day continued on outside, completely unaffected by your sudden break in routine.

You jumped off your bed and snatched one off the wall angrily, glaring at it. It was easier to be angry rather than scared. “What do you want?” you growled. “What’s wrong with you? Why do I even have you?” The picture said nothing back. You huffed, exasperated, and tossed it to the ground. If you felt bad looking at the pictures, then fine. You would just not look at them. Problem solved. But then again, the problem started before the pictures. You simply hoped your day would go back to normal by ignoring them. Maybe they really were the root of the problem. You had no idea, but it was worth a shot. Despite this, despite promising to leave the pictures behind, something felt wrong. Something still felt off. Your heart rose up in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You slowly, painfully, cast a glance over your shoulder.

There were still five pictures on the wall. A child’s drawings, taped there crookedly, as if a child had put them up there. Perhaps the same child, you didn’t know. How could you know? It seemed as if you had only noticed them moments before anyways. They made no logical sense. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of resignation and guilt. Pictures shouldn’t make a person feel guilty, but that didn’t make the feeling dissipate. You didn’t even know why you felt guilty, but you did. It flooded your system and made tears well up in your eyes.

“Fine,” you whispered, walking back over. “Fine. I’ve done this for a week. I can’t take it, I…” Your brow furrowed. This was the first time this happened. The words just came out before you had time to think. But a week of this…? It made no sense. It made just as much sense as you saying you enjoyed sharing this time with someone else, as you saying Mom and Dad needed to be more responsible about a child. Maybe you were just going crazy.

You hurried to the drawings before the thought had time to frighten you off. They all seemed generally the same, all four- You shook your head violently.

“Five! There are five of them! Christ why is this so hard?!” You slammed your hand down against the fifth photo, giving it all the attention you can, glowering. It didn’t amount to much. The subject matter of the photo escaped your notice, try as you might, but you caught one bit written in hasty red crayon.

“Mount Ebbot,” you said, burning the place into your memory. Something was wrong. Something you couldn’t place but needed desperately to identify. You could feel it in every fiber of your being. It resonated in the world around you. The world seemed to shift to cover up this fact, something all too visible and yet impossible to pin down. As much as you wanted to just ignore the whole matter and take a nap, it wouldn’t let you. It demanded recognition in the forms of the pictures. You were given no choice.

You grabbed your car keys, picture in hand.

Just as you reached the door, you paused, turning around to give your room one final look. English and history books lined the two bookshelves pressed together, the odd adventure story fitting itself in amongst the texts. Mobiles and chimes and other various decoration hung from different spots. The desk could hardly be seen underneath a mountain of papers, notebooks, and unfinished projects. A red lamp your mother bought you some time ago. An air freshener to mask the smell of old socks. Your understanding of what normalcy meant. And then five pictures had plastered themselves in the middle of it all. A few ideas had wormed their way in. It scared you more than it should have, upset you in a way you didn’t understand.

All you understood was scrawled in crayon. A direction you had to take. Now. You were stalling, after all.

“I’m coming back,” you whispered to the empty space. You weren’t sure if it believed you. Nevertheless, you walked out of the house and into your car, driving towards a decision you would never have made yourself.


	2. Your Friend Flowey

            The forested face of the mountainside loomed ahead, shadows cast by the setting sun engulfing you. It looked even more foreboding than the myths surrounding the place claimed. For a moment you considered going back, and not for the first time. You didn’t have the right shoes for a climb like this. In a few hours the sun would be going down, and it’d be hard to navigate in the dark. Hell, you didn’t want to do this. That should have been the biggest reason as to why this was a bad idea. The piece of paper crinkled in your hand as you made a fist, reminding you why you had to stay. As bad as this idea was, the prospect of turning tail was worse. You squared your shoulders and started up the mountain, muttering under your breath the entire way. You hadn’t even packed a bag for this adventure.

            About a fourth of the way up you really wished you had that bag. It had rained the previous night and some of the forest floor was still damp. More than once your knees and the palms of your hands got scratched up. A few bandaids would be nice. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast either. Your stomach growled at the thought of food and you grimaced. You doubted you could be less prepared. As the sun started setting, these little slips happened more and more often. Mud encrusted your shoes and caked your shins. Worst of all, as hard as you looked, there was absolutely nothing on this mountain. Whatever it was this drawing meant to lead you to, it wasn’t in this area.

            You stopped dead in your tracks at the thought, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. This mountain was huge. More likely than not you would just get lost plodding around up here looking for who knows what. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t worth your safety. Not like this.

            “God damn it,” you sighed, giving the area one last look around. Even if this wasn’t a fool’s errand, the sunlight was nearly gone. You needed to see to be able to find out what was going on. A flashlight might have been nice, but oh no. You hadn’t thought of that earlier. You were too much in a rush to get lost on a mountain playing search and rescue or detective or whatever else. You swore under your breath and kicked a pile of leaves, displacing your frustration on something that had nothing to do with the situation at hand. At least you weren’t too lost yet.

            In the dim lighting you caught a glimpse of a clearing up ahead and headed up that way. There you might be able to take a break before going home and taking a much needed shower. You examined your hands as you walked and scowled. The trek had really done a number on them. They probably needed a little more care than just a bandaid or two. Otherwise they might get infected. That’d be just fantastic. The icing on the cake.

            You expected to walk into a clearing, a safe place to sit down and maybe check your phone for directions back. That was why you took that chance to check out your injuries as you walked when you hadn’t done so before. It was also why, combined with the lack of light, you entirely missed the gaping hole in the ground until you walked right over the edge.

            You weren’t sure what dropped first, your stomach or the rest of you. You let out a scream, twisting around in the air and scrabbling for the edge, but too late. The bottom of the pit rose up from the blackness. Another scream died in your throat, and you saw gold before everything went black.

 

~

 

            “-ra? Ch-! Wake -, c’m-! –ra! Ch- -se…”

            Everything hurt. In some part of your mind that cared currently, you heard something yelling at you. A high pitched, panicked voice. Right now it wasn’t your top priority. Nothing felt broken yet, and you could still move all your limbs. Other than the previous scrapes, there weren’t even any cuts, although you felt several bruises coming on. Your shoulder hurt the worst out of anything. From what you could guess it was sprained. You rotated it slightly and winced. Definitely sprained. Still, considering the fall, you got off lucky. A splitting headache and one sprain were a small price to pay for not being dead.

            “Chara! Please, Chara, say something! You’re gonna make me cry again, don’t do this to me!”

            Alright, now that was getting annoying. This whole Chara business had nothing to do with you. You sat up, wincing and holding your shoulder. “Could you stop? I’m barely in one piece here and I have had _a day_. My patience was one of the things that got hurt in the-“ You stopped mid-rant, your brain needing a moment to process what your eyes were telling you. A golden flower, a flower with a face, was staring at you. Not to mention it looked distraught. None of the other flowers around you appeared sentient, although you did swivel from side to side to check. You leaned in a little bit closer to get a better look at the odd flower out, causing it to lean back. On closer inspection, distraught might not have been the best word to describe it. The way it had its leaves tucked in close, how its petals trembled ever so slightly. It looked frightened.

            “What in the world are you? Are- are you alright…?” Concern layered your voice, even as your head was tilted in confusion. You might not have known what was going on, or how this made sense, but it seemed so scared. With any luck, you could help in some way.

            The flower suddenly switched emotions at your tone, losing its fear and becoming visibly relaxed, but only momentarily. Its stem straightened and it threw on an easy smile, the sudden change of emotions giving you whiplash. “Oh gosh, I thought you were someone else there for a moment. I shoulda been more careful. But it’s all cleared up now. I’m Flowey, Flowey the Flower. It’s nice to meet ‘cha! There hasn’t been a human in the Underground for a while.” Flowey giggled at that, as if having some kind of inside joke.

            You just stared for a good while, trying to process what was going on. A small talking flower was bobbing happily from side to side in front of you, humming a soft tune. Just a moment ago it had been ready to pee its metaphorical pants, and yet it acted perfectly fine now. This on top of everything else that had happened today… You leaned forwards and put your head in your hands.

            “I’m having a mental break of some kind. Or I actually did die from that fall. Or I died a long time ago and this is some kind of special hell for lazy people.”

            Flowey giggled again, patting your knee with a leaf. “Oh no no no, trust me, you’re alive and doing just fine. You still have a SOUL and everything. Just look at you go. That’s not saying you shouldn’t be confused. Golly, this must all be so new to you. Don’t you worry one little bit. Your new friend Flowey will help you out.”

            The flower disappeared into the ground and popped back up several feet away, still wearing the same wide grin. Your heart lurched forward in your chest momentarily, making you gasp and clutch at your shirt. It hadn’t seemed like you were so upset by all of this that you’d have such a bad reaction. Then again, little had made sense today. For whatever reason the world had turned on its head, throwing everything out of whack. Yet, ignoring the talking flower, everything around you still seemed perfectly normal. Stars were just appearing in the sky above you, the flowers that had broken your fall looked like any other kind of flower, and, far above you, too far to reach, you could hear the wind blowing through the trees. It was you who was at odds with things while a flower watched impatiently, its smile fading by the second. After rushing out for no reason, you were stuck here. It might be days before you’d be able to get back to where you came from, and by that time your boss at work would be furious. You couldn’t have that. You needed that job for- for… You shrank back, terrified by yet another nonsensical thought.

            “I don’t- I don’t have a job… Why would I-? Why did I-?” Tears pricked behind your eyes. This was just too much. It was all piling up and made no sense and was _far too much_. You pulled your knees to your chest, forming yourself into a tight ball. A sob escaped you as tears rolled down your face, your shoulders heaving painfully.

            “Ah hah, yeah, that looks, fun, I guess, but we should get going. I can explain on the way. Don’t worry! Your new pal here will make sure it’ll all be okay.”

            “I- I just need a m-moment,” you managed to choke out, pulling your legs closer in. “I c-can’t do this r-right now… Flowey I c-can’t, I’m s-sorry.”

            Silence loomed over the both of you, pressing down as a tangible weight. Faint scratching noises reached your ear just when you thought the pause was going to bury you alive, but it didn’t help. You recognized the sound as Flowey’s entrance into the earth, but he failed to come back up. Above you, bats chirped and the leaves rustled together in the wind. By this time of day, you’d be sitting down for supper with your family, if they had decided to come home that day. Instead, a talking flower had just abandoned you in the bottom of a hole too deep to climb out of. The tears came faster at the mental reminder, your cries filling the cavern.

            Nobody came.

            An hour went by before you could get it all out of your system. Your legs felt stiff from being in the same position for so long, but lamenting now meant you’d be alright later. If you continued before you felt ready, more than likely you’d just break down again, and you couldn’t have that. Best to get it all over with in one fell swoop. Now, however, it was time to go, with or without the flower. Of course, you were moving on without him. He hadn’t come back. The corners of your mouth curved downwards. More than anything, it was a pity. Flowey had been strange, that much was true, but he had been the only one to talk to here. Some part of you thought he might even have been a friend, given time. There was no way to know if anyone else even lived in this place. Unfortunately, friendship seemed to be a luxury not afforded to you.

            “Not like I had friends back home anyways,” you mumbled. Friends required time, something you never had enough of.

            You stood and dusted off your pants, sniffling only a little bit. While it’d be nice to see him again, you hoped that Flowey wasn’t the only creature in this place, the Underground, as he so aptly put it. You moved forwards, walking past a random patch of grass in the center of the room. Come to think of it, he also said you’d been the first human to show up in some time. A shudder crawled down your back. When phrased like that, you weren’t so sure if you wanted to meet the inhabitants of this place.

            Just as you came to the top of the staircase, a tall white creature, resembling some sort of sheep or goat on two legs, came through the door. When she caught sight of you, her hands flew to her mouth, her ears pricking up.

            “Oh my child, you look ghastly! Are you alright? I hurried over as soon as I heard a human had fallen into the Ruins. Did someone do this to you?” Her eyes grew dark, and you could’ve sworn a tinge of red appeared at her fingertips. “Believe me when I say, I will NOT tolerate any harm coming to you.”

            Sudden overwhelming situations like these were the reason why you took your time to have meltdowns before moving on. Your world was tilting yet again at the arrival of this, person, you supposed, but at least you had your footing this time.

            Still, you took a wary step back, unable to take your eyes off her for a variety of reasons. “I’m, not your child,” you managed. “And no one did this. It’s been a long day, that’s all. Don’t worry, please.” The request was more for your sake than hers, even though it was a little selfish in that regard. No one at home cared about you this much, so it felt weird to have a stranger be so invested. Well, no one except- Your face fell. Apparently there was no end to the amount of mental contradictions today. You pressed a hand against your cheek, shaking your head.

            The lady moved towards you, an arm outstretched to help, but stopped when you kept retreating backwards. “My- my dear, is there anything I can do to help you? I promise, you will be safe with me. There is nothing to fear.”

            With the softness of her fur and the kind look in her eyes, the lady practically screamed sincerity. She’d kept a respectful distance between the two of you, even though she appeared anxious to help. You wanted to trust her, to take her by the hand and let her show you to safety, but your heart pounded too fast. Your feet stuck to the floor. Every time those thoughts, the thoughts you swore didn’t belong to you, popped up, the guilt came with it. Deep down, you knew you’d done something terribly wrong. You knew it for a fact, even if you lacked the slightest clue about what you had done. It squeezed the air out of your chest as you hyperventilated.

            The lady’s concern for you kept growing. Her eyes were boring a hole into you and you had no idea how to respond, no idea about how to diffuse the situation. You were only making things worse-

_“You always make things worse! It’s all your fault, I hate you! Why couldn’t you-?!”_

**Be calm.**

            You gasped at the mental reminder and shook your head. “I- I think I need to go lie down for a while… It’s been a l-long day and I need a break from it… The climb up the mountain killed my legs, and falling down didn’t help.” Frowning, you looked down at your hands, noticing they were shaking. “I really thought I had this under control… I’m usually not like this. I don’t know what’s going on…”

            She nodded, testing out the waters with another step. When you simply watched, swaying slightly on your feet from exhaustion, she moved over to your side, gently brushing your hair from your face to examine a bump near your temple. You leaned against her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Pride and caution did not apply in this situation. What mattered was reaching a point where you could rest up enough to find a way out, or at the very least discover what was happening.

            “My name is Toriel,” she murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. “I live near the end of the Ruins. You can take some time to recover there, my dear. Can you walk?”

            You nodded off to sleep, completely exhausted, just as she asked the question. Toriel quickly supported the rest of your weight, reacting instantly with healing magic. Perhaps your injuries were too great. What if you didn’t wake up from this? She shouldn’t have waited so long to help, your death would be on her- Oh. You were snoring. A small laugh escaped her when she realized you weren’t dying at all. Toriel smiled gently and picked you up, heading back with the intentions of making a lovely cinnamon butterscotch pie. It was a pity she couldn’t ask your preference.

            You slept soundly in her arms, despite one last repetitive thought repeating endlessly on loop:

**Be calm.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, as promised. I'm really glad I could keep my word on when I would post, considering I just came back to school. I hope you guys liked it, and thank you for stopping by. Next chapter should be more relaxed with any luck :) See you guys next Sunday!


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